I Can't
by 1000th Ghost
Summary: Kim is able to pleasure Edward, and Edward is upset that he can do nothing back.


**I Can't**

**By: 1000th Ghost**

They expected her to go back, so she purposely stayed away. It was a permanent solution to be permanently separated - never mind the permanent heartbreak.

It was six months later, a balmy July afternoon, that she broke her resolve.

She had no idea why she had come. She really did not have a memory of even walking up to the old mansion. She had been concretely going to the park to meet her friends for a picnic or sunbathing or something equally inconsequential. But she had to pass by the gate of the mansion on her way to the park, and somehow just passing by did not seem to be an option. It was as if the house had taken her prisoner - a happy, willing prisoner - and she wanted nothing more than to step inside its disturbing grounds.

The overgrown trees and unkempt wildlife pushed her this way and that as she climbed to the front lawn. She emerged, miraculously, without a scratch, her pink, flippy miniskirt and white t-shirt still intact.

But the breeze continued to guide her body, a warm, summer breeze that brought with it the scent of the flowers that bloomed around her in the exquisite landscape that _he _had created. It commanded her to dance, and like the strange, luring force from the house, she did not wish to resist it.

She swayed with the wind, her hands traveling up around her head then down again, caressing her skin, wishing they were his hands, not caring that they would cut her to pieces...

Her eyes closed, and she was not aware of anything but the images in her mind until her back was against leather and buckles.

He danced with her, moving side to side. His scissored hands came around her and stopped below her waist, and she moved closer to him to avoid the shears.

"Kim..."

She said nothing; if she spoke, the dream might be over, and she would have to face reality. That she had gone to the mansion and climbed to the garden and was with him now-

"...you came back."

Her eyes snapped open.

Yes, she had come back, it was as simple as that.

She turned slowly in his embrace until she was staring up at his painfully pale face.

"Yes, Edward. I came back." She paused. "To you."

When she kissed him, he closed his eyes like he had before, seeming to be overcome with the mere fact that someone _could _love him in that way. And as his heavy sigh met her ears, she wondered, if a kiss had such a profound effect on him, what would something more do?

She almost dismissed the thought. He was, in many ways, a child. Physically an adult, yes, but knowing nothing of what being an adult meant.

She could show him though. And maybe she should. Yes, she wanted to show him; she loved him and wanted to be able to give him this experience.

Better that it came from her and not someone like Joyce who would use him, and he would not understand. Who would only want him because he was there and unusual.

Her arms were hanging loose at her sides, and she moved her right hand and slid it over his thigh. She did it again and let just her fingertips graze his crotch.

He was as still and silent as ever, but she took the fact that he had not rebuked her as an indication that it was okay to continue.

This time, she cupped him fully and, when he still gave her no response, began to slowly stroke him.

The leather suit was completely restrictive, and really she couldn't feel anything at all. But she continued the motion, hoping that he was getting some enjoyment out of it and that she did not seem like a fool.

A minute or more had passed when he spoke, "Can I free myself? It's too tight."

She blinked, his voice unexpected. "Of course."

He reached down a scissored finger and undid a buckle or a zipper or a snap.

Her first thought was to wonder if he had ever taken off the leather suit - or even if he could - or if just this one part opened so he could use the restroom. Her second thought was that it was covered in tiny scars, just like his face, and how dreadful it must be to handle it with blades.

She traced her fingertips along the scars sympathetically, more out of her own curiosity than of providing him pleasure. He murmured, soft and hardly audible, but she heard it and wrapped her fist around his hardened shaft. His eyes were closed as she moved her hand along him.

Her eyes watched him intensely. She had done this for Jim, but he had grunted and called her vulgar names, and Edward seemed so overwhelmed with just her presence, not necessarily what she was doing.

"Oh!"

The outburst was uncharacteristically loud for him, and she snatched her hand away, thinking that she had done something wrong, that she had hurt him, that he did not want this-

"Don't stop," he panted, the words strung together as if they were one.

She complied, going harder than ever until he cried out again.

"What's that?" he asked once his breathing had returned to normal. He pointed to the semen coating her hand.

"Never mind." It was best not to confuse him with the technicalities of reproduction. She smiled instead. "I love you."

"Yes. I love you also." He smiled back, tentative and shy. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>In the morning, he was gone. She awoke on his dilapidated bed where she had fallen asleep with him the night before.<p>

At first, she assumed that he had only stepped out for a minute.

He vanished for a week.

Around day three, she started to wonder what she had done to upset him. Around day six, she wondered if he was ever coming back.

On the seventh day, she screamed and cowered on the bed as he approached her.

"I have hands." He held them up as if the obvious statement was not enough.

"Edward...Edward...how?" she asked when the initial shock had passed. She gingerly touched the new appendages, slightly bloodied where they joined his wrists.

"When I was on the TV, a lady gave me the name of a doctor. He gave me hands."

"Oh, _Edward_." She spread her fingers all over them, marveling at it. Then she stopped and looked up at him. "But why? Why now, I mean?"

"So that I could do to you what you did to me." And he stuck a new hand under her skirt.

She gasped, and he looked confused.

"You don't have what I have." He moved his hand inside her panties and tried to search for what was "missing". "You're different."

"Y-yes, girls are different - ah!" She clutched onto his shoulders then fairly fell on him, needing him to support her so she wouldn't collapse. "Yes, Edward!"

He moved his fingers experimentally, and she moaned into where his neck joined his shoulder.

"Do you like that?"

It was a line that belonged in a bad adult film, but when he said it, there was nothing but innocence behind it.

"_Yes_," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Later, lying together on the bed, she stroked his new hands and asked, "You aren't worried that you won't be special, like that lady on TV said, are you? Now that you can't trim hedges or cut hair or...or sculpt ice?"<p>

"I'm more special now," he said after a moment, "being able to love you."

"Hold me."

He could.

**The End**


End file.
